


Opening the Blinds

by sleapea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depressed Keith (Voltron), Depression, Depression Care, Early Stage Reltationship, Fluff and Humor, Gay Keith (Voltron), Light Angst, M/M, Maybe??? Is depression angst???, New Relationship, Supportive Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapea/pseuds/sleapea
Summary: It was quiet for a while, as what he said settled into the darkness. He buried his face into his pillow, wanting so much to tell Lance to stay but not wanting the boy to look at him, to see him like this. He felt the weight leave the end of his bed; Lance had stood up. Relief and disappointment crashed over him all at once, but on the outside, he didn’t move. He was surprised to feel the weight return to his bed, but this time, right at his side.“Keith,” he felt a warm hand press against his shoulder “Keith, look at me.” He shook his head into his pillow, and the hand resting on his shoulder tightened. “Keith, I’m not sure what’s going on with you, and I won’t ask you to tell me. But I’m not leaving you here like this. Whether you look at me or not, I’m not leaving. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”_______Set in canon universe, around the beginning of season 3 (aka shortly after Shiro's disappearance & lion switches). Lance and Keith have recently started dating, but Lance has yet to experience/witness Keith's depression. Since leaving Earth, Keith's managed to keep it together, but after Shiro disappears, everything hits him at once.





	Opening the Blinds

**Author's Note:**

> Depression is a pretty personal topic for me. I wrote this while in a similar headspace to Keith. People in my life were asking me what they could do to help, and it got me thinking. And... this sort of poured out! 
> 
> I apologize if Keith seems slightly out of character. I used old journal entries of mine to compile Keith’s thoughts, just to make it seem a bit more personal. Depression is hard and it sucks and I wanted this work to reflect at least a little bit of that. Lance was never meant to be a “solution,” because there’s no easy “fix,” and sometimes there isn’t one at all. A big part of this was to show what a difference someone can make by just being there. You don’t have to understand a situation to be understanding of people going through it. All of my love to those who fight similar battles, and for those who fight battles that I can’t even imagine. Keep fighting the good fight.

Keith hated when he got like this.

He felt disconnected and far away, desperately trying to escape the present but having nowhere else to go. His mind had floated somewhere just beyond reach but his heart had stayed, locked in his chest and _aching_. With every beat it felt nothing and yet everything all at once, spreading the overwhelming pain of both throughout the far reaches of his being. The sensation had transformed his body into a weight he could no longer carry, and thus, he found himself curled in on himself, unable to leave his room and clutching his chest. How many hours had he spent like this? Four? Five? Time was something he’d lost the ability to measure. 

Slowly, he had fallen into this. He’d known it was coming, could feel it creeping through his bones and tugging at his skin. Although he knew the warning signs, he was incapable of stopping the beast once it had stirred, slowly beginning to stretch and unfurl after it’s long, heavy slumber. Usually, training was a release; something he enjoyed, something he craved. But as he fell, and as the beast awoke, it started to exhaust him. Gradually, it became a burden he could no longer bear. On a good day, the diplomatic meetings Allura had them all sit through were tiring. Now, they were impossible. Even being with the team at the end of the day, the mere act of chatting and forcing a smile, had become something he was incapable of. Helpless to do anything but watch his own life go by in a blur of colour, he had retreated into himself and into the dark.

Keith liked to equate his mind to a small, empty room. It had four walls and four windows. When he felt like this, it was as though he was trapped in that room. The windows would lock and the curtains would draw, leaving him to feel his way around in the dark. It was the best way he’d learned to understand this feeling… of being trapped and halted in place. Of his mounting frustration at his own inability to do anything at all when he was like this, let alone live his life. Of his constant inaction born from being too tired and too afraid to make any real decisions. Nothing had been his decision for too long, and he was tired of everything being hard and everything being empty and everything being frustrating. Nothing was the most tiring thing he’d ever experienced. And so he sat, frustrated and blind, screaming and screaming in the dark room of his mind where no one could hear him and no one could see him.

He didn’t stir when he heard a soft knock at his door, or when the door to his room slid open. He remained quiet and still where he lay in his bed, curled and staring at the wall. “Keith?” he heard a soft voice call out into the darkness, followed by quiet footsteps easing their way into his room.

“Lance,” Keith breathed, and, sensing the unspoken question on the other boy’s lips, abruptly followed with “I’m fine.” Keith wanted nothing more than to sink into himself and disappear. He did _not_ want Lance to see him like this, especially when they’d only recently confessed to each other and everything was still so _new_. For now, he wanted Lance to see him at his best, and not for the mess he truly was.

“When was the last time you ate?” He felt his bed dip softly as someone sat at the end of it. Lance was approaching cautiously, keeping his distance, but Keith could tell by his tone that he wasn’t planning on leaving. 

“I don’t know.” Keith mumbled into his pillow, praying to the Universe to carry him off to another dimension where he could be far, far away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, that was a rhetorical question.” Keith tensed, eyes glued to the wall. “I know that the last time you ate was last night. You haven’t been out of your room since.” When Keith didn’t say anything, Lance continued. “And do you know what time it is now?”

“ _Lance._ ” Keith managed to breathe out, frustration mounting. 

“That was also a rhetorical question. Everyone just finished dinner… it’s been a day, Keith.”

“Lance… _please_ …” Keith’s voice was getting quieter and quieter, his ability to fight fading with every breath and comment from Lance. 

“Keith… everyone’s been… we’ve all been worried about you,” Lance’s voice softened as he spoke. “ _I’m_ worried about you. We thought we should give you some time but… you’re not taking care of yourself.” Again, Keith didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. After a moment’s silence, Lance spoke again. “Are… are you still wearing your training gear from yesterday?”

At that, he flinched. “Lance, I promise, I’m fine.” He was desperate now, voice breaking. “This happens to me sometimes. It happened to me back on Earth too. I’m fine, really, just let me deal with this.” It was quiet for a while, as what he said settled into the darkness. He buried his face into his pillow, wanting so much to tell Lance to stay but not wanting the boy to look at him, to _see_ him like this. He felt the weight leave the end of his bed; Lance had stood up. Relief and disappointment crashed over him all at once, but on the outside, he didn’t move. He was surprised to feel the weight return to his bed, but this time, right at his side. 

“Keith,” he felt a warm hand press against his shoulder “Keith, look at me.” He shook his head into his pillow, and the hand resting on his shoulder tightened. “Keith, I’m not sure what’s going on with you, and I won’t ask you to tell me. But I’m not leaving you here like this. Whether you look at me or not, I’m not leaving. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.” The hand on his shoulder softened, and he could feel Lance’s thumb begin to rub soothing circles against his shoulder blade. Although he tried his best to stop it, he could feel his eyes begin to swell and burn as he quickly became overwhelmed.

Keith lifted himself slowly with unsteady hands, sitting upright, but still facing the wall. “I really don’t want you to see me like this.” He could feel his voice hitch as he spoke, cursing his body for betraying him so easily. He felt so vulnerable, his inability to control his emotions in his current state leaving him completely and utterly exposed. He had spent his entire life trying to hide this side of himself from people. He was too rough and too messy to allow himself to truly rely on someone, the fear of being seen overwhelming the need to reach out, always. Keith told himself that it was just a protective instinct, an innate need to shield himself when he was broken and bare. But a small part of him knew it was also because he was ashamed. He was ashamed of what he saw in himself, and of what other people might see in him. His thoughts were interrupted by gentle fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear. Lance’s thumb lightly brushed the curve of Keith’s cheekbone, the rest of his fingers threading into the hair at the base of Keith’s neck.

“Keith.” Lance’s free hand reached out, tentatively cupping Keith’s other cheek and turning his face so that they could see eye to eye. Panic flared through Keith at the touch, the closeness. At Lance seeing his face, pale and patchy from lack of sleep, and his red-rimmed eyes, full and close to spilling. At the thought of Lance’s fingers touching his hair, which he had been unable to summon the energy to wash. Lance drew their faces together, firmly resting his forehead against Keith’s. “Breathe, Keith. Breathe. It’s just me.”

“But I-“ panic edged his voice. Lance was so close, and he was looking at him. _Really_ looking at him. A thumb began to trace up his cheek, feather light and calming.

“I want you to be comfortable around me.” Lance sighed, breath heavy. “I want to help you. I want you to _let_ me help you.” His voice was just above a whisper, just loud enough for Keith to hear. “I _want_ to see you.” Keith’s breath came out unsteady and broken. He could feel his entire body begin to tremble. Both of his hands reached up to grasp at Lance’s arms, scrambling for something steady to hold. He knew he was squeezing hard, probably too hard, but Lance didn’t flinch away. Rather, he responded by lightly tightening his grip around Keith’s face, pressing their faces closer together. “I mean, a pretty untraditional second date if you ask me,” He could hear the slight smile in Lance’s voice. “But unlucky for you, I’m not so easy to scare away.” Keith’s next breath, while still unsteady, carried a ghost of a laugh.

“I’m not so sure I’m the unlucky one.” His grip on Lance’s arms softened, his body finally beginning to relax. Whether he liked it or not, he was slowly easing into the comfort that Lance offered.

“Oh, you definitely are.” Lance pulled back, grinning at Keith. “I mean, I traded up but you definitely traded down.” Keith’s perplexed expression drew out a small, breathy laugh from Lance before he continued. “I mean, I know I’m the total package. But it’s not often you stumble across an 11 who’ll take you.”

“An 11?” Keith smiled through the words. It was small, but it had Lance beaming.

“Oh yeah, you definitely broke the scale. I didn’t think they _existed_ until I met you. I mean, look at you. Your eyes, your face, I mean, your leadership skills could use some work but _boy_ do you have a nice-“ Keith cut him off, playfully punching him in the gut. 

“Don’t say it, for the love of God, don’t say it.” Lance playfully feigned hurt, hands clasping his stomach. For a moment, Lance had made Keith forget about his self-consciousness; had crept into his mind to knock at the walls of his little room. Of course, the walls did not give. But the impact had been enough to shake them, causing the windows and blinds to sway. He melted at the thought, basking in the warmth of the small fragments of light that now peaked through the cracks in the blinds. “Lance… thank you.” At the sudden tone of Keith’s voice, Lance stilled. As Keith opened his mouth to continue, Lance shot out a hand. 

“Nu-uh! Nope!” he shook his head for effect, not letting Keith get another word in edgewise. “Don’t wanna hear it Keith. I’m honoured for this chance at our second date and I wouldn’t change it for the world. No thanks needed.” Keith sat in surprised silence, the words he was about to speak dying on his tongue. He had been so quickly and efficiently shut down, Lance addressing his unspoken words with ease, that he was now at a loss for words. “First order of business,” Lance stood up, placing his hands on his hips “Is getting you out of these clothes.” He walked over to the light switch and flicked it on in one fluid motion.

“I…” Keith started, suddenly anxious. He fidgeted lightly, threading his fingers together in his lap and avoiding Lance’s eye. “I don’t know what I have… haven’t really gotten the chance to do laundry in awhile.” At this, he looked directly down at his hands, too mortified to look up.

“Small problem, easy fix.” Lance abruptly turned on his heel and marched straight out of the room. Keith looked up instinctively, astonished at his quick, confident reply. Before he could process what Lance had said, the boy was already sauntering back in, a small pile of clothing folded between his hands. “I just did a load of laundry today. Luckily, I’ve recently worn my smallest pair of shorts. Should fit!” He beamed, clearly pleased with his solution. At the thought of wearing Lance’s clothes, Keith’s breath caught. “The sweater will probably be a little bit big but… who doesn’t like a good oversized sweater, right?” As Lance continued to smile at him, genuine and wide, Keith thought that this boy might actually be the death of him.

He stood up slowly, having been unsteady and off his feet for the majority of the day. His stance was a bit uneven, but he was relatively stable. Lance, sensing that Keith’s posture was more fragile than usual, was by his side in a flash. Keith rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder as he straightened, gratefully taking the offered help. When he was fully upright, he looked at Lance and smiled. Lance smiled back. One minute, their eyes were locked. The next, Lance’s eyes were flashing wide. Lance quickly looked away, suddenly blushing and sheepish.

“Uhm… Keith?” Lance coughed uncomfortably into his fist, still withholding eye contact. “Do you uhm… need any help…?” He extended his arm forward, offering Keith the folded clothes. His eyes looked down at the pile of clothes and then quickly up at Keith before darting away again.

“O-oh!” the realization quickly sunk in “No… I can change myself.” He quickly took the clothes from Lance, sure that he was breaking out into a furious blush of his own.

“Alright, uhm, cool.” Lance took a step back, one arm reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Cool… cool…” he trailed off, looking at his toes as he continued to step backward. “So I guess I’ll just… wait for you outside?”

“Yeah… that should be good.” Keith tentatively looked up, offering a weak smile.

“Alright…” Lance spun around so fast it almost blurred Keith’s vision. “Cool… cool… I’ll just be out here then.” And with that, he was gone. Keith let out a long sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Lance really was going to be the death of him.

* * *

Within moments, Keith was stripped and almost fully changed. Lance had given him a small pair of black shorts that now rested snug around his waist. As he pulled the dark purple crew neck over his head, some faded alien logo embellished on the front (likely one of Coran’s old sweaters), he realized that he was currently wearing Lance’s clothes. They were clean, and still slightly warm from the drier. They had been recently folded and placed in Lance’s room, and they smelt like him. The feeling of having Lance’s clothes wrapped around him, clean and warm and hugging him in all the right places, made him feel an ease he hadn’t felt in days. When he was finished changing, he walked out of his room with a shy smile tugging at his lips.

Lance quietly led him down the hall, the castle dark and silent. It was around the time of night when the ship usually started to settle, everyone finally having retreated to their rooms for the evening. Lance walked about half a pace ahead of Keith, slowly guiding him to the kitchen where he had proclaimed he would make Keith anything he wanted to eat. As the lights of the hall illuminated their path, Keith became increasingly aware of his hair. Specifically, how the lights likely showcased the fact that he hadn’t been able to wash it recently. He unconsciously tried to tame it with his fingers, trying to make that fact appear less obvious.

When they reached the kitchen, Lance instructed Keith to sit at one of the barstools in front of the long island that was situated across from the main cooking area. Once Keith was settled, Lance rounded the island and faced Keith, the oven, countertops, and fridge to his back. “So, what can I whip up for you today, Mr. Kogane?”

Keith looked up and smiled, one hand still loosely tending to the hair resting against his neck. “Hmmmm,” he took a moment, pretending to think long and hard about the question. “I’m not sure chef. What’s your specialty?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Lance flashed a grin “This chef doesn’t like to brag but… he can make a _mean_ grilled cheese.” Keith couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Prepare me one of your finest.”

“On it,” Lance shot him a wink before turning around to rifle through the fridge, quickly grabbing what he needed to get started. “Whole wheat or white?”

“Hmm…” again, Keith pretended to take some time to ponder the question, scrunching his eyes in mock concentration. “I think I’ll take… whole wheat.”

“Good, because I was going to give it to you anyway. You need your grains.” Keith scoffed, feigning shock.

“Don’t forget who’s the customer here.”

“You’re right, I’m a chef who respects his guest’s preferences. I would have _accidentally_ given you whole wheat.” He buttered the bread quickly and efficiently, lighting up the stove once he was done. “Would have been an honest mistake.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, or I might not let you get away with that.”

Lance gasped, reacting with faux shock. “You would never withhold a poor chef’s tip, would you?”

“Depends,” Keith leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “I think… I would only forgive him if we happened to be on our second date.”

“Ah man, looks like I’m out of luck then,” Lance smiled as he placed the prepared sandwich on a heated pan. “There’s no way this humble chef could ever convince an 11 to go out with him.”

“You never know.” Keith marvelled at how easily Lance was able to draw this out of him, at how easily he was able to make him feel so comfortable. But most of all, how Lance managed to find this part of him, that was currently small and buried deep, and completely unearth it. For the first time in days, he felt slightly human. He couldn’t stop the fondness from creeping to his face, expression gone completely soft. He watched as Lance flipped the grilled cheese, now quietly sizzling and turning golden. Keith let himself relax, closing his eyes and savouring the warm smell. Now that he let himself think about it, he really was hungry. 

“Ta-da, one grilled cheese,” Lance said. Keith opened his eyes quickly, unaware that he’d completely spaced out. In front of him was a finished grilled cheese sandwich, radiating warmth atop a plate that was somehow already in front of him. Lance had finished cooking, cut the sandwich in half, and placed a jar of ketchup on the table without Keith having noticed. “And… some carrots and celery, to sweeten the deal.” He set a small plate in between them, full of freshly chopped vegetables."The carrots are a bit... purple. But hey, we're in space. I'm sure Coran wouldn't put anything in here we couldn't eat." Keith blinked twice, slowly taking in the scene and trying to comprehend where exactly he had gone in his mind to be able to miss all of the effort Lance had been putting into this small meal.  

“Wow, Lance, you really didn’t have to-“ Keith breathed out, eyes wide and cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t serve a side?” Lance casually intervened, now washing the few dishes he had used. “Besides, it’s not too often we come across fresh vegetables like this. Figured now was a good time to use them.” Keith stared at Lance’s back in quiet awe for a few moments before digging into his sandwich.

* * *

“Is there a reason you keep fiddling with your hair?” Lance said as they walked back down the hall toward Keith's room, a step ahead of him. He spoke as he walked forward, eyes facing ahead and expression unflinching. Keith hadn’t noticed he’d been playing with it again until Lance pointed it out, and his hand, which had been twisting around the long strands by his ear, shot down immediately. He stopped abruptly, attempting to regain himself.

“H-how did you notice? You didn’t even turn around!” Keith managed to stammer out, now a few paces behind Lance who hadn’t stopped to wait for him. Keith was thankful that Lance had continued walking down the hall, a furious blush having crept up his neck and beginning to spot his cheeks.

“I could see you out of the corner of my eye. You’ve been doing it all night.” Lance said so softly, matter of fact. It took Keith aback, realizing how much Lance must have been paying attention to him in order to notice something so small, even while he was busy cooking and cleaning the kitchen. Something about this realization melted his insides, turning them gooey and soft. He relaxed into the feeling, taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. When he looked back up at Lance, the boy's face still held the same expression, but a light blush now coloured the tips of his ears. A comfortable wave of warmth spread throughout Keith’s body, lowering his guard and laying him out bare.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days,” he shrugged, walking slowly and looking down at his feet “…been kinda hard to do much of anything, you know?” Lance came to a sudden stop, Keith nearly bumping into his broad shoulders. Lance’s index and thumb reached up to rest against his chin, like he was thinking hard.

“You know what, change of plans. I have an idea.” As he spoke, he cocked his head to the side and grinned.

“A change of plans…?” On a good day, Keith had trouble keeping up with Lance’s abrupt ideas and general antics. On a day like today, when he wasn’t in his right mind, he felt as though he was constantly three steps behind him.

“Don’t worry about it, just follow me.” instead of continuing forward, Lance quickly turned down a hallway leading to their left. Keith didn’t have time to process the new plan before Lance had him by the wrist and was leading him quickly down the hall.

* * *

Lance’s long, gentle fingers kneaded at Keith’s scalp, shampoo foaming around each tendril of Keith’s hair. When Lance had led Keith straight into the bathroom and promptly announced that he was going to wash his hair for him, Keith had nearly lost his mind. Lance had laughed at the dumbfounded expression on his face, and before Keith had the chance to protest, he had already been ushered over to the side of the bathtub.

He currently sat on a small stool, head bent backwards over the opening of the tub. Lance stood to his side, lightly bent over him and softly working shampoo into his hair. Normally, Keith would have been embarrassed by the situation. But the sensation of having someone wash his hair was something he’d never experienced, and he found himself completely consumed by how relaxing it felt. Lance’s hands were firm and gentle as he worked the shampoo into his hair, and every time Keith took a breath, all he could smell was clean laundry and vanilla. All he could smell was _Lance_.

“Lance.” his voice was quiet, but it cut through the easy silence they had built. It made Keith tense, shoulders becoming rigid.

“Mmm?” Lance’s response was just as quiet as he continued to work the shampoo into Keith’s hair.

“I just want to say-“ Keith watched as Lance opened his mouth, and became instantly aware that he was going to protest. “Let me say it, McClain.” Lance paused, but quickly gave in to Keith’s glare. He bit the inside of his cheek and pouted, earning a small laugh from Keith. “I just want to thank you. Helping me… taking care of me like this, they’re all things you don’t have to do.” Keith had never been very good at expressing his feelings, and this conversation was no exception. He found that his throat kept tightening, eyes burning and threatening to spill. “Nobody’s ever really done this for me before. I… just really appreciate it, I guess.” His voice trailed off, becoming quieter and quieter until Keith felt like he had no more air in his lungs. Lance turned on the faucet, rinsing Keith’s hair without saying a word. It wasn’t until he began conditioning Keith’s hair that he finally spoke.

“When I was younger, my abuela used to watch me and my siblings every day when my parents were at work.” He began coolly, just as Keith had begun to panic in the growing silence. “Believe it or not… you know, looking at me now,” he paused and winked down at Keith, who stuck his tongue out in response. Lance simply grinned as he continued; “I was pretty… frail when I was a kid. I used to get sick a lot. While my siblings played outside, I usually had to stay inside with my abuela.

“Sometimes I would hang around the windows, watching everyone. Anytime I ever started complaining about how I wanted to go out, she would drag me away from the windows by my ears.” He laughed to himself at the memory. “We’d usually end up playing snakes and ladders or something after to distract me. Needless to say, we were pretty close. 

“Every time I was sick, she would always do the same things.” He paused then, face turning a bright shade of red. When he spoke next, it was a cross between a mumble and a whisper. “She… would take me to the kitchen, and sit me down. I’d watch as she made me… a grilled cheese…” a low cough “…with carrots on the side. I was a picky eater, and this was the only time she’d indulge me.

“After I was done eating, she would scoop me up and give me a warm bubble bath. She never let me wash my own hair. I used to ask her why she did all of these things for me every time I was sick… which was pretty much all the time. She would always say the same thing: ‘ _Leandro, you never need a reason to take care of someone you love_.’” He paused for a while; long enough that Keith questioned whether or not he was going to continue. Lance took a deep, steadying breath before moving on.                                                    

“About a year before I entered the Garrison, my abuela… she got sick.” His voice was calm, but it came out just above a whisper. Keith’s breath caught, but before he could say anything, Lance was looking down at him. Although his face was sad, he was smiling. The smile was small and closed mouthed; yet his cheeks still bore small traces of the dimples that appeared every time he grinned big and wide. His expression was completely soft, almost soothing, smile reaching his eyes and crinkling the skin around them. It was so impossibly _warm_ ; he could almost hear Lance whispering into his ear “ _It’s okay_.” Keith reached upward instinctively, grabbing at Lance’s wrist. He squeezed once, drawing Lance’s hand away from his hair until it was in front of him. Lance looked surprised at first, but his expression quickly eased into the closeness of the touch. He slid his wrist down in Keith’s grasp until they were hand-to-hand, and slowly laced their fingers together. He mimicked Keith’s squeeze, the conditioner on his hand soft and sticky and bleeding through the cracks in their fingers. Lance’s next breath came out hot and shaky. “Alzheimer’s. It was… pretty awful, to put it bluntly.” He took another breath, this time, it came out steady. “My siblings were all pretty busy with school. As the youngest, I had the most time. I was usually the one who would go and see her at the home.

“Their meals were always pretty strict and scheduled, so I could never cook for her. I was pretty determined to do something though… I wanted to help take care of her. Eventually, the nurses let me wash her hair for her. It took a lot of convincing, I think they really only gave in once they realized they couldn’t stop me.” He smiled, small and soft, eyes looking somewhere far away. “Near the end she… was pretty confused. She could tell that I wasn’t one of the nurses, so she would always ask me why I was taking such good care of her.” Lance’s grip tightened around Keith’s hand, and Keith responded with a squeeze of his own. He moved his thumb up and down, caressing the back of Lance’s hand in soft strokes. “I always told her the same thing… ‘ _Abuela, I don’t need a reason to take care of someone I love._ ’

“The very last time she was able to remember me was after I said that.” He paused for a few minutes, staring down at their joined hands. Keith met his every squeeze, breathing slowly with him in the silence until he was ready to continue. Lance finally looked up, meeting Keith’s eyes. “It just… it used to bother me. Being asked _why_ every time I visited. It made me understand what she meant when she used to say that to me when I was younger. You don’t do these things because you have to, or because you feel like you should. You don’t need to thank me, Keith. I’m doing this because I want to. I _want_ to help you; I _want_ you to feel better. I… care about you.” He blushed, but he didn’t turn away. After a few moments, he broke their gaze, straightening to place a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead. He reluctantly broke their fingers apart, reaching forward for the tap to begin rinsing Keith’s hair.

“The fact that nobody’s ever done this for you… that nobody’s ever taken care of you... it’s, I don’t know. All I know is that it makes me want to go back to Earth and kick the ass of anyone who ever left you alone to struggle like this.” He turned off the tap and began to gently squeeze the excess water from Keith’s hair. Meanwhile, Keith’s mind had gone completely blank. Although his head was quiet, his heart felt so full that it _ached_. Ached for Lance, for his pain and for his loss. Ached for the boy who had dragged him from his room, empty and cold, only to offer him a piece of his own heart to try and keep him warm. The way Lance had said “ _I don’t need a reason to take care of someone I love_ ” echoed over and over again in his mind, to the point where his eyes, which had been full and near spilling all night, finally overflowed down his cheeks. The second Lance pulled back from squeezing his hair, Keith had him by the collar of his shirt. He pulled him down until their lips met, hot and messy, conveying the entirety of his feelings in the best way that he knew how. Lance gasped into his mouth, and Keith’s heart hammered in his chest. The erratic beats rang in his ears and the overwhelming intensity of everything he was feeling spread through his veins like a spark travelling down a wire. Lance quickly eased into the kiss, into Keith, leaving his head spinning and his heart so full he thought it might burst.

* * *

Lance had pulled back once he realized Keith was crying. His wet hands had reached up to cradle his face as Keith finally broke. He cried for himself, all of the pent up emotions he’d been unable to express pouring out of him. The long days he’d spent alone, the countless hours he’d wasted staring at nothing, the frustration of knowing he couldn’t control any of it and how it would likely happen again, all washing down his cheeks and soaking into the sweater Lance had lent him. He cried for Shiro, the only family he’d ever known, lost, then found, then lost again. Whose shoes he’d never be able to fill and whose shoes he never _wanted_ to. But mostly, he cried for Lance. For his loss, and how he had felt comfortable enough to share it with him. For how easily he’d been able to break right into Keith’s little room, where no one else had been before, and where no one else had ever tried to be. He’d opened the blinds in a burst of colour and lifted Keith until he was able to look outside, hands resting against panes of glass, gazing beyond and into the far corners of his mind. He didn’t flinch or shrink away, rather, he’d bent down and whispered right into his ear: “ _It’s okay, we’ll leave when we’re ready. But right now, we’re here together_.” He shook and shook into the comfort of Lance’s arms until he was ready to look at all of his broken pieces, jagged and messy, and begin to put them back together again. As Lance soothed and held him, pressing his hand over Keith’s on that pane of glass, Keith knew he wouldn’t be picking them up alone. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Hunk made the ketchup, & kaltenecker helped with the cheese. I just assume everyone knows how to make bread it’s universal /literally/ alright 
> 
> 2) It’s set in canon universe so I figured I’d keep Lance’s last name the same. But I’ve always liked the idea of Lance being a nickname, or a short form of his real name. He’s a proud Cuban boy!
> 
> 3) BONUS: They've now been dating for years, and every time Keith is struggling to take care of himself, Lance will strip the boy himself. Then, he scoops him up and they have a bubble bath together. Ofc, Lance always washes his hair for him.  
> Keith will never admit it, but his comfort food has slowly morphed into grilled cheese. Lance knows bc he's a sweet observant boy, and always makes him one after a hard day.  
> Keith never questions why Lance is helping him… if he so much as protests, Lance pinches his ears. 
> 
> Thank you for listening, now for my thesis on how grilled cheese and bubble baths are the foundation of every stable relationship…
> 
> 4) FINALLY... I have a lot of material for this that just kind of happened?? Them in the future, what happens when they go back to Keith's room. All stuff I thought of and planned out but didn't quite... fit with the impact I wanted this to have. But who knows, maybe I'll play with it in the future.
> 
> _________
> 
> If anyone is curious, you can find me on tumblr [here](https://sleapea.tumblr.com/) (main) and [here](https://beautifulspacegays.tumblr.com/) (vld)!


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